Someone’s idea, we count coins between class
and fang out the carpark in the little white car
Any Bloomies door will do; we do it all the time
Hand over our lunch money for a measly two-five

We’re all Havaiana thongs and Incubus songs
and an empty coke bottle for the new buddy bong
as we pinch some hose from a stranger’s lawn
(not the first time – it’s almost all gone!)

Now cruising out east to our usual meet
windows cranked low in the blistering heat
and park in the shade of some scraggly tree
there’s four of us here, four- including me

Emerging from pocket, we inspect the prize
I call “seconds” to secure the starting line
and pluck a cigarette for contribution to the mix
Fingers and scissors making light work of it

It’s way too hot; we strip down to our bras
and the mix is too green, I’m coughing hard
“so baked!” I choke, and oh how they laugh
just another sesh in the little white car

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[Ah memory; knocks the breath from me
the passage of time, so very heavy
a little thing, now 20 years in the past
– how could 20 years go so damn fast!?]